“Make a list of the 5 most difficult parts of your health focus. Make another top 5 list for the little, good things (small victories) that keep you going.”
Piss off, Forrest…I’m a diabetic.
**ponders about pondering**
***suddenly off on a trip into the far recesses of my mind***
****I wonder if my cats would mind my putting little doll clothes on them for shits and giggles****
What are some of the difficulties I face in my endeavours to take over the world one badass moment at a time?
Dare I start with the addition of five children, managing two of them remotely with their substance abuse and behavioural challenges?
Dare I start with the “logical” assumption that many of my friends tell themselves that I’ve…oh, what’s the phrase…”become my illness“…or…”hide behind my illness“…yet don’t bother to even occasionally take 2.2 minutes to read an update?
Dare I start with the ridiculously constant heartbreak of finding something that really does make me feel better (although in complete contrary to what actually should…given the number of afflictions I possess and their contraindications) because it is so #$%$# overpriced that clearly it is some kind of cruel scam intended specifically to prey on people such as myself?
Dare I start with mentioning the chaos of my reality that impedes on my ability to spend nearly enough time to be able to actually participate in an online tweetchat because they seem to always occur RIGHT after we all step foot in the door from the after school bus?
Dare I reveal the gross inadequacies between multiple health care providers because even though they ALL endured the same damned medial curricula they’re suddenly only knowledgeable within their respective fields, thus negating the possibility of communication betwixt them and enabling a well-rounded, whole body approach to care?
Oh looky. I’m already at 5.
I’m one to tell people to try to find at least one small thing per day of awesomeness.
Do I do this, myself?
You’re damn right I do…it’s the only thing, on some days, that keeps me either from running head first into a wall, or from eating coffee grounds straight from the can chased with vodka.
Today? It was scoring a little stick-vac at 50% off for a whopping $19.99 at Canadian Tire. It weighs less than my cat and negates the need for Go, Go SpazzyHands here from having to pretzel around a broom in order to sweep up the laminate flooring. In a nutshell…best $20 I’ve ever friggin’ spent.
Yesterday? My couch. I consider myself very lucky that I have such a wonderfully new couch that I can rest my I’ve-earned-this-ass upon…in a home filled with light and love and….pbbbbbffffttttt….
I also look to “quantifiable” measures of awesomeness.
For example, March 28th was my first anniversary of being completely smoke-free. I feel better…I look better…and dagnammit, I smell better.
For example, I have received messages from friends that I had no idea were silently suffering and enduring chronic afflictions of their own, only to be told how my “open book” policy on life has helped them through a particularly bad spell, or that they’re relieved to see it written as true to form as possible…and enabling them to crack a grin every once and again.
Like I’ve said…it’s not always about purple painted ponies pooping butterflies jacked up on jellybeans.
For example, teaching myself something new. No matter if it’s just a tidbit of information related to my afflictions, my wedding or just for shits and giggles…if there are times my body just won’t conform, I can still be productive and use one of my best assets to help raise my esteem. Nothing yells a resounding “BOO-YA” like teaching yourself to sew all the clothing for your five children for your wedding.
For example…planning and crafting a WEDDING, whilst in the throes of the biggest flare I’ve had to date. I fucking did it. That’s as resounding a statement as I ever could make. I’m damn proud of it and will tell you so every chance I get. Just sayin’.
For example…on most days where even brushing my teeth hurts, I’ve managed to keep up my participation in the Health Activist Writer’s Month Challenge by blogging daily. DAILY. Even on days where my hands are twisted into sick representations of broken digits. It hurts on a scale of “hounds of hell”, just so you’re aware. But I continue in the hopes that my temporary bout of pain can bring a smile, a chuckle…a giggle…from someone who cannot bear the attempt themselves.
27 days to date.
No matter what happens in my made-for-tv-movie kind of life…I persevere.
“And that’s all I have to say about that.” 😉